


Four Times Sherlock Was Not OK, And One Time It Was Too Late (Or, 4 Times Sherlock Lied to John And One Time He Told The Truth)

by VitulaAmore



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 4 Things, 5 Things, Angst, Baskervile, Cheating, Death, Gun Kink, Gun play, Longing, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Pining, Reichenbach Fall, Reichenfeels, S3 spoilers, Sad, bart's, but not really, hound of baskerville, ish, lying, m/m - Freeform, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 09:54:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1740398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VitulaAmore/pseuds/VitulaAmore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For Mohana, Clare, and Katt :3</p></blockquote>





	Four Times Sherlock Was Not OK, And One Time It Was Too Late (Or, 4 Times Sherlock Lied to John And One Time He Told The Truth)

Sherlock only lied to John four times.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(1)

The first time was in Angelo's. John asked him about his relationship status. The question caught Sherlock off guard- everything about this little man in a boring sweater did- so Sherlock hastily expressed he was flattered but Married to his Work.They both agreed it was fine.Because it was  
Sherlock did not realize it was a lie until the next day, when John shot Jeffery Hope. Sherlock gazed at John across the parking lot, the sickly blue and red lights of the ambulance playing across the blonde's face. His deductions faltered as he imagined what it would be like, to be on the opposite end of John's gun, cold barrel pressing into his skin.  
Greg was frowning at him and he realized he had stopped. Sherlock waved a hand "Forget it, everything I said." He had forgotten his own words already.  
Sherlock knew then he was in trouble.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(2)

The second time Sherlock liked to John was in Baskerville. Everything was going /wrong/. He couldn't have seen the dog. It was ILLOGICAL. Sherlock was getting frustrated at himself and everyone around him. He stared into the fire,trying to concentrate, even going so far as entering into his Mind Palace but John kept being /there/, insisting on holding a conversation with him. About what? Sherlock was only half concentrating,answering him with half-sentences,growing more frustrated as he hit mental block after block, yet John still kept talking. Finally Sherlock looked round "I lose my senses unlike some people so you see I am fine.I couldn't be better so Leave.Me.Alone." He snarled. John cleared his throat and looked away for a second. "Yeah.OK.OK. Why would you listen to me? I'm just your friend."  
Something that had niggling at the back of Sherlock's mind was almost /there/ he ALMOST had it, quite like finding the word that has been on the tip of your tongue all day,or a nut in your tooth coming loose but it slipped away as he fought to answer John and work the case at the same time.A rough noise brought him out of it and it took him a moment to place it - John had cleared his throat. The blonde had looked away,face impassive but his hands were tight. Stressed. About what?  
"Yeah.OK.OK. Why would you listen to me? I'm just your friend."  
Ah, /sentiment/. Sherlock grimaced- the Holmsian equivalent of an eye roll."I don't have /FRIENDS/."  
John stretched "I wonder why." and,clearing his throat again in that /irritatingly/ righteous way of his, he stood and walked away.  
Sherlock felt the air go out of him. He did something wrong, he/felt/ it but what? It didn't fit. Nothing did anymore. Maybe he was becoming just as he feared-inept.  
Sherlock closed his eyes and slowly let him self sink back into the case.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(3) 

The third time he lied was on the roof of Bart's. Moriarty was dead but the game was far from over. Sherlock's mind whirred as he mapped London out, most logical places the snipers would be, the best way to get to them all. If he had time..His phone chirped and he slowly slid it open. No one ever called him. Another trick?  
"Sherlock!"  
"John..."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(4) 

The last time Sherlock lied to John was the day before John was to be married to /that woman/. He could barely bring himself to call her Mary, let alone John's Wife. Sherlock dragged John out to the bars under John's insistence they 'make a go of it-one last night as single men!'. Deplorable. Detestable. Boring. Yet three hours later Sherlock found himself in a packed club with half-dressed men and women ten years younger than him dancing to music that made Sherlock think of mangy wild cats fighting in the alleys. of London..all on fire.  
John leaned on the table so he could shout a conversation at Sherlock, sitting right next to him. "So, what do you think? About this..all this." John was already more than half tipsy.  
"I would rather stick my head in an open Delhi sewer. Have actually and I can assure you, it is quite enjoyable compared to this din."  
John laughed. "No you twat, my marriage.You know, tomorrow."  
Sherlock watched John watch the crowd, and considered.  
He could tell him the truth, that it shouldn't happen, that Mary couldn't make John giggle so hard his eyes nearly crinkled shut. Like he could.  
That she couldn't give him the danger he so craved like he could; ,wiping noses of snotty brats was nothing as exhilarating as than running in rain so hard you couldn't see ten feet in front of you yet you still ran down the man who killed seventeen women and kept their bodies in the basement for his use until the rotted into nothing.  
That he thought about John every moment he was away during his three-year 'death'.  
"Well?" John jostled his leg as he reached for his drink -missing by four inches.  
His hair stood on end and he wore a gaudy 'Groom to Be' pin that Greg had gave him the day before.John was important to him-the only thing that remained constant through his life. For Sherlock to tell the truth would ruin him, and like John always said about the string of women he dated before Mary, 'why ruin a good thing?'.  
What they had now, the moments together. It was good.  
it would never be enough but it was /good/.  
Sherlock sighed and pushed the drink to John. "I am very happy for you. Mary is a good person."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
AND the one time it was too late for the truth....

 

Sherlock sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I know it's gotten longer. Mycroft hates it. But that's only because he is jealous, fat balding git." He smiled weakly. "I know it has been a while since I came to see you. I see you all the time, when you're not there." He looked away,gathering his voice. "I miss you.John." he said quietly. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. Mary was supposed to take care of you. If I hadn't let her then ..." He sighed. "It's my fault. I should have told you the truth. Do you remember, the night before you got married? You asked me how I felt about it and I told you I was happy for you but I lied. I- I wanted to tell you." He rapidly blinked back tears. "I thought about you every night, when I was away. Makes it sound like vacation doesn't it, away?" He smiled but it faltered and was gone in a flash. "I wanted to do that,take you away,just you and me. That is how it should have been. You would still be alive if I had."  
He rested his hand on top of the gravestone and closed his eyes. "Oh I forgot." He drew a bag of cookies out of his pocket and neatly set it under the Irises, planted by Molly and Mary last month, on the fifth anniversary of John's death. "Macaroon, your favorite. Same color of your sweater. I still have it. I sleep with it,even thought it's lost your smell. Your room,too. I locked it up, wouldn't let Mary touch it. You're almost gone from 221b but you're always there. Sometimes I look up and I swear I see you in your chair--" Sherlock shook his head and stood. He ran a hand through his hair again, setting the curls on end. "I miss you John, every day. I always will. " He glanced round,making sure no one was looing, then stepped forward to gently touch the stone again,softly tracing the letters of his name. "Hopefully I'll see you again soon. Mycroft thought he took everything but he missed the box, the one you found. My jaw still hurts sometimes." He chuckled. "Anyways, I don't know what I'm doing here." He stepped back, wrapping his coat around him like armor. "See you soon,John."   
As he climbed into the back of the cab he touched the syringe in his pocket. Soon.

**Author's Note:**

> For Mohana, Clare, and Katt :3


End file.
